More than a Puppet
by mustardgirl1128
Summary: Oneshot. For the Shuffle Challenge. Ten looks into Severus Snape's mind. Naturally music is involved... "Potter has Lily’s eyes, her spirit, her essence, as much as it’s cloaked in James Potter slime. He can’t let Lily die again." T for language.


The Scientist—Coldplay

Severus _loves_ her. Shouldn't that be enough? They are so different to one another—she isn't the nerdy Muggleborn that everyone sees, and he isn't the Dark, bitter dork everyone sees.

But now, now they have to part from each other. It's fate, or something else angry—at him, at the world, at happiness. He's _tried_—oh Merlin, he's tried to apologize—but she'll hear none of it.

He _loves_ her. He does. With every part of his body—she's the only person he'll ever love. Who ever had a chance to love him.

He wishes with every part of him now, he wishes to go back. To be those innocent eleven-year-olds they once were. He _misses _her now, and _fuck_, they shouldn't live like this.

But swearing can't help anything, he knows, and so he sits on his bed blankly, staring at the wall and wishing hopelessly. He never thought love would be so goddamn _hard_.

But he _loves_ her, and it is hard, no matter what. His friends couldn't tell him that—who have they ever loved?—and she was too innocent to ask about such things. She always will be.

Why can't they stay like two naive children forever?

He shouldn't be alone.

* * *

Agoraphobia—Incubus 

He'd forgotten that life could be nice.

But it could be, apparently. He'd forgotten that leaving Hogwarts was acceptable. He'd forgotten that going somewhere _else_ was okay.

He is stuck. He doesn't ever go out. He's scared—he's a coward, like hell does he know that.

He can imagine being with her, and then he'd be able to leave.

But he can't. He can't leave. He reads the Daily Prophet, and does not leave. He thinks of Albus, and does not leave. He imagines her, and does not leave. He pictures Voldemort, the Dark Lord, and does not leave.

Nothing will make him leave. If he could get over this, perhaps he could leave. If he made it through.

But he _can't _leave, he _won't,_ he wants to stay inside and just be. Just stay here and never move again. He wants to. But want has never been enough for him.

* * *

I'm with You—Avril Lavinge

_You-Know-Who is gone_.

_Harry Potter lives._

_The Potter parents have died. Are killed._

He reads the news. He knows. He understands. He expects Lily to come to him, to take his life, too.

But she doesn't. She keeps him in the hellish world.

He goes to Dumbledore. She's dead, they both know, but the foolish man says that he can protect the boy.

The _boy_—as if he cares. As if he ever will.

Won't someone come to help him?

Won't someone _love_ him?

Won't someone save him?

No. He's never been loved. No, no, no. No one cares.

And then Albus does. Albus cares.

And he goes with the half-insane man, goes with the Headmaster. He won't leave. He'll never leave. He's staying.

He'll protect the boy.

He'll remember Lily.

He'll go with Albus.

* * *

Black Dog—Led Zeppelin

He couldn't help but be half-mad—as mad as Bella—being with the Dark Lord so much.

Killing made things _liberating. _Gave him a sense of purpose.

He laughs as he points his wand as someone—the mad laugh he's acquired from Bella herself. He closes his eyes for a second, and sees red. A flash of curly red—Lily's hair.

And suddenly killing is not so good. Killing is horrible.

Bella threatens. Rabastan giggles. And Severus sweats, swears, and denies.

_No_, his mind-Lily is saying. _Keep your soul. Keep your credibility for a _little,_ Sev!_

She's the only one who ever called him Sev, and suddenly all he wants is _her_. Right now. _Right _now. He needs to see her, to hold her hand.

To love her.

Killing is horrible.

Killing is not liberating, and Lily is right.

He needs the woman who will treat him right, who will love him, who will be his everything. Who will make him happy. He stares in disgust at Bella, who enjoys this, at Rabastan, who does it for his Master. He can't _live_ like this. He needs _Lily_. Right now.

Or else he _isn't_ living.

* * *

Scientist Studies—Death Cab for Cutie

He's trying to save Potter—that's the _point_, right? How can Albus _possibly_ be planning to kill him?

He's saved. He's worked. He's fought, and now he's killed the one man who was his friend.

And Potter must die, as well. Potter must be gone.

How many times has he wished that? The end of the Potters, forever?

But alas. Now he can't help but long to save the boy. Why did he have no say in this?

He is more than a bitter, broken-hearted puppet of Albus's. He is a body, a mind, and he can't let Potter die. Not after everything.

Not after he's saved him so many times. How _can_ he?

Well, he'll have to put on a show, first. Live through the show. This is only the beginning. For some reason, his plan nearly excites him, nearly makes him happy. He's going to do something on his own, pull the strings himself. He'll do it—he's got to.

He's got to save the boy, somehow. After all they've gone through, _together_, he can't let him die.

He just…he can't.

It's unexplainable.

But Potter has Lily's eyes, her spirit, her essence, as much as it's cloaked in James Potter slime.

He can't let Lily die again.

* * *

You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us in Prison—My Chemical Romance

Once the Dark Lord got him, there was no going back. There was no stopping.

He's going with him. The red-eyed fighter of death.

He makes them train, he makes them learn, and he makes them kill.

But Severus Snape is no weakling, no simpleton. And so, besides all that physical _shit_, he knows Voldemort has something planned. He doesn't care about preserving their souls, their lives. He cares about himself, about fighting this horrific Death.

To him, life's a drug. Life is everything.

Now, of course, he has the followers he needs, to inject it inside of himself.

He doesn't give a _damn _for their souls.

* * *

A Plain Morning—Dashboard Confessional

He's dying.

He'll see Lily. He'll see his love, and he'll love her again.

He has faith in that.

The seven years with Harry Potter were almost torture.

But those _eyes—_it made it so hard for no _Avada Kedavra _to get uttered from his lips, the wand at his chest.

He's got that note from her—_Love, Lily_. It is his talisman. It will fight against all this.

He's glad, almost, that she's gone. She never sees her son do the idiotic things he does. She never sees the waste of the Wizarding World, of her best friend's bumbling, tortured son, of Albus dying.

But now he needs to see her. It's the end. He's going home.

* * *

Hey Girl—Dashboard Confessional

He was taken with her red hair, with her green eyes.

He wishes, now—and _oh fuck, not wishes again—_that he was smart enough for her, that he was _good_ enough for her.

Everyone else made fun of him—and _oh fuck, not the Snivellus memories again—_Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin, girls, boys, _teachers_.

She was nice. She was beautiful. Her friends hated him. Her sister hated them both. He didn't care. He cared only for her.

And then they had to choose—Dark or Light—and _oh fuck, not my idiocy again—_and she chose Light.

"Voldemort won't solve your problems!" she'd spat.

He never forgot that—and _oh fuck, not Voldemort again_.

He wants to forget her.

He wants to forget his love for her, but _oh fuck, not Lily again._

* * *

Let it Bleed—The Used

She's _dead_. He can't get it through his head—_dead_.

He longs to be dead, with her, without the hindrance of Potter and the baby. The idiot boy that she saved, giving her own life.

Hate fills him.

_(Maybe he is soulless.)_

That _boy_ killed her, killed her!

_(He wishes to be dead.)_

That horrible, terrible boy.

_(He'll kill him.)_

No, of course not. He's just hurting. So, so much hurt. So much blood, so much pain.

_(But Merlin, he wants to. He _wants _to.)_

He's soulless.

* * *

Winter's on the Wing—Secret Garden

He's finally, _finally_ dead. He loves it. He hears no heart inside him. He hears no breathing.

He's _happy_.

Winter's gone. The winter of his existence—for he still _exists._

He feels spring—he sees. He's thawing, he's _living_ again like he never did while he was actually alive.

He runs, suddenly—he's in a field. One of green, of flowers, of _lilies._ Suddenly, he sees her.

He's done with winter.

* * *

A/N: This is for the amazing Shuffle Challenge. I suddenly fell in love with writing this way…so I wrote 10 instead of 5. Quite fun. I hope you enjoyed by Severus bits. Drabbles. They're all pretty short, meaningless, but oh-so-fun to write! xD

Thanks to my sister Nora for being awesome in her choice of music (I used her iTunes store) and to Kore for the challenge.

_Please review._ PLEASE. I have music! Be afraid. Review.


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